The Birth

I'm Just That Good at Titles

-+-

My second attempt at Harry Potter fanfiction. I don't know how anyone does it – I can't seem to get the characters down. They change as I write them.

Thank you looking, anyhow. Sorry if I burnt out your eyes with the pain (O! the pain!)

voici.

-+-

The day Draco was born was the first time Narcissa had seen Lucius so out of control. He had his reasons, she supposed, it was the first time he had no influence over the events. He couldn't very well pay the baby him to come out faster, and childbirth was one of the few places magic was close to useless.

By a unanimous decision, he was going to be born in their bedroom. Neither wanted their first child to have to put up with other babies screeching at it as it tried to sleep, or be handled by a stranger. Those were the spoken reasons, although Narcissa had realised part of Lucius being insistent were based on the fear that half way through, he might be called 'On business', and he liked his wife to be somewhere familiar to her while he was away. Yes, the baby would be born, and the nanny would take up her duties there and then.

As it was actually happening, Lucius was patrolling the corridor outside, shirt sleeves rolled up, hair messily tied back. If one got close enough one saw the signs of too little sleep in the form of red veined eyes, and dark rings around his eyes, contrasting vividly with his pale skin. He looked as if his whole world were tumbling out of his grasps, which was, one supposes, what was happening.

Meanwhile, Narcissa was not focused on the task in hand. She felt rather guilty of this – weren't women usually supposed to spend their time giving birth screaming in agony? Narcissa could not stop thinking how, as soon as this baby popped out, she would have the bed burnt. She thought the amount of blood and gore there was, was a little excessive. Nobody had prepared her for it. Someone – a nurse, probably, had asked her if she wanted anything, looking a little worried, and became even more so when she replied 'A glass of Austrian Red would be wonderful.' Thinking about it, the wine had never come. Narcissa was a little put out.

The doctor opened the door to Lucius. "You can come in if you want, Mr Malfoy." He had said, rather nervously. The doctor was also thinking on how his training had not taught him how deal with nervous husbands. Lucius thought about comforting his wife during her birth, put one head around the corner, seen a sight that was, in his mind, Just Not Right, and declined the offer.

"Is she well?" He asked. Best to be blunt about these sorts of things.

"She just asked for a glass of red wine, Mr Malfoy."

Lucius smiled.

17 black coffees, 11 snide remarks, 4 muffled screams (not one from Narcissa), 2 worried glances and 1 hour later, he held a small bundle of baby, and she cradled that well earned glass of Austrian Red. Lucius counted his sons (he loved saying that) tiny fingers and toes, admiring their perfection. The usual comments were made about how he would look like his father, and how well Narcissa had done. So much for the nanny taking him straight away – Lucius refused to let anyone but he handle his son for the next fourteen hours, resulting in Narcissa having to literally prize the sleeping baby from her husbands hands.

"But what if something happens to him?" He asked, horrified. "He's so small and delicate."

She took his arm, and spoke as if explaining to a child. "Lucius. He is not going break if you let me feed him."

He took a step back from her. "Darling, you don't understand! He might break!"

"…. He won't break." Firm and assertive. That was the way to go.

"Really?" Lucius asked, his eyes wide with fear.

"Really."

"Do you promise, Narcissa. With your life." He said, his voice bordering on psychotic.

"Lucius, don't be ridiculous, why would I-" Once again, Narcissa couldn't help wondering why then made so many videos carefully explaining how to breath when birthing, but not one explaining how to comfort a over-protective first time father.

"Promise!" Lucius interrupted.

"Fine, fine, I promise with my life that our son will not break if you put him down."

"… Do you really promise?"

This was probably going to take more then a glass of Austrian Red to sort out, sighed Narcissa, going on to explain to her husband that the luke warm water in the bath had been run for her new son was not a 'trap, to cook my precious son like a lobster'.